After the Reborn Young Master Embraced a Life of Wellness – Chapter 84

At four o’clock in the morning, the city was still cloaked in darkness.

But on the top floor of a hotel invested in by CM, the lights blazed brightly. The stark white light reflected off the polished floor, casting sharp shadows that heightened the cold, solemn atmosphere of the room.

The only person seated on a stool had his hands resting on the armrests. No one knew what he was thinking.

They only knew that his mood tonight—was extremely foul.

From a room not far away with its door tightly shut, the faint sound of cursing and screaming could be heard at first. But soon it weakened into mere groans, then silence. Finally, the door swung open.

Han Qian stepped out slowly, wiping his fingers with a handkerchief.

Xi Siyan lifted his gaze to look at him.

Han Qian couldn’t bear the weight of that stare for long and quickly spoke up. “I found out.”

He tossed the handkerchief to a nearby bodyguard and continued, “You guessed right. It wasn’t just one group—there were three groups. Chen Mo had a lot of dirt on Chuanxing Technology. When UA got into trouble, Ren Xiansen panicked. He feared an investigation and, even more, that Chen Mo would report him. So he hired someone to sneak into Chen Mo’s place and steal the information. That’s group one.”

“As for the arsonist, he was working for Lunard. Right now, Chen Mo is still the legal heir to the Yang Group. Yang Zhi’s stance is ambiguous—he hasn’t denied that Chen Mo might return to take over the company. Lunard probably figured that if Chen Mo died, he’d have a final shot at survival. So he bet it all.”

“And the hospital attack?” Han Qian raised an eyebrow, dragging over a chair to sit beside Xi Siyan. “Want to guess who planned that one?”

Xi Siyan hadn’t moved an inch since he sat down. He turned to look at Han Qian and said flatly, “Yang Shule.”

“Damn, you already knew?” Han Qian scowled. “It’s no fun playing guessing games with you. You ruin all the suspense.”

Seeing that Xi Siyan’s expression hadn’t relaxed in the slightest, Han Qian gave up on trying to joke and continued, “Chen Mo… was lucky. The hospital attack was hastily put together. After Yang Shule learned he didn’t return home, he clearly couldn’t accept it and rushed to plan an attack.”

Xi Siyan’s face darkened: “Where is he now?”

“Obviously fled,” Han Qian replied, looking like he thought it was self-explanatory. “If Chen Mo had died in the fire, they’d be celebrating right now. But it backfired. Not only did he not go back to Rhine Ark, he ended up staying in the hospital. Yang Shule just lost the last chip he had with Lunard. We don’t even need to imagine how miserable things will be for him now—especially if he ends up in your hands. He’d be a fool not to run.”

Xi Siyan stood up from his chair and said coldly, “Cooperate with the police. Search every major train station and airport. I don’t want to hear that he hasn’t been found by tomorrow. Also, investigate who leaked my itinerary. I don’t care who it is—don’t bother bringing them to me. Just report them directly for malfeasance.”

Han Qian clicked his tongue. “Whoever leaked your schedule probably still thinks it was no big deal. And Yang Shule—he may have cared about you in a twisted way. He specifically chose to act when you weren’t around. Do you think he even knew you were in the hospital last night?”

Xi Siyan gave him a sharp glance. “If you’re bored, go catch him yourself.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out.

Han Qian blinked, then called out, “What about the people inside?”

A cold voice drifted back: “Chop them up and feed them to the dogs.”

Han Qian cursed under his breath.

A subordinate approached hesitantly, “Assistant Han… about President Xi’s command—”

“Did I say you’re stupid? Why are you still breathing so loudly?” Han Qian kicked him and scolded, “He’s just angry right now. His own man almost got stabbed under his nose—he’s livid. If he really wanted to kill someone, our job is to talk him down, not hand him the knife. You think you’re the boss now? Be grateful the man still has a functioning brain and hasn’t lost his mind.”

Han Qian knew he was now in a tricky position.

He thought about how Chen Mo was nearly killed, not just stabbed—those people were clearly trying to make it look like an “accident.”

An ambush like that, straight-up aiming for the kill…

It reminded Han Qian of the two most dangerous years he and Xi Siyan had spent abroad. The way Xi Siyan had handled things back then… Even now, Han Qian got chills thinking about it.

He could guarantee that Lunard’s decision to target Chen Mo would go down as the worst mistake of his life.

As for Yang Shule?

Han Qian couldn’t even be bothered to comment on that guy.

People said he was brainless—but the truth was, he was actually very cunning.

He knew how to make himself valuable in front of someone like Lunard, knew how to ruthlessly make a move when it came to Chen Mo, and even had the guts to go all in when it mattered.

But if you were to say he was really smart, he clearly wasn’t. In fact, he had the short-sightedness of a clever fool.

The dumbest part?

He probably even fantasized that timing the attack for when Xi Siyan wasn’t around would somehow show how much he cared.

“Let’s go,” Han Qian finally said.

His subordinate blinked, “Go where?”

“Where else? Let’s clean up the mess for President Xi—so he doesn’t do it himself and make us suffer for it later.”

—

It was impossible to count just how chaotic this night had been.

Chen Mo’s whole night on IV drip was wasted. By the next morning, his fever still hadn’t subsided.

But he didn’t show it.

He calmly handled the dozens of concerned messages that flooded in.

Eventually, probably too annoyed to keep responding, he posted a message to his WeChat Moments:

“I’m still alive. Only the house is gone. Thanks for everyone’s concern.”

Then he turned to the doctor, ignoring the man’s furrowed brow, and asked, “When can I be discharged?”

“Discharge?” The doctor gave a strained smile. Especially with a man in a black suit posted in the room all night, plus four or five visible bodyguards, he felt immense pressure as he replied, “Mr. Chen, you still need treatment. Though the highly toxic drug wasn’t injected last night, your fever hasn’t broken. You don’t meet the criteria for discharge.”

Truth be told, the doctor was terrified.

Medical disputes, violent patients, emergency cases—they were all used to that.

But someone sneaking into a hospital to inject poison and commit murder?

That was the first time he had seen something so insane.

The hospital had received instructions from another man in the ward and quietly suppressed the incident, preventing it from spreading. Given that it had happened in the middle of the night, only a few people—the police and high-level hospital staff—were even aware of what had occurred.

And precisely because this was not a normal situation, the attending physician was especially firm in refusing to approve discharge.

Chen Mo wasn’t surprised by the rejection.

He sat back, tilted his head, and looked at the man who had rushed back through the darkness just after dawn. “Brother Yan,” he said.

“Stay here for two more days,” Xi Siyan said as he tucked the quilt in gently. His aura had visibly calmed. “At least until your fever breaks.”

Chen Mo reached over and touched his pinky finger but didn’t let go. His tone held an understated warmth as he said nonchalantly, “I just don’t want you to deal with all this alone.”

At that moment, the thread of tension that had been wound so tightly in Xi Siyan’s chest all night—snapped.

And what surged in its place was a deep, overwhelming anger.

The kind of fury born from a fear so intense it had been forced down, smothered in silence, and now erupted all at once.

Up until this point, he had needed to stay completely calm—rational and detached—so he could untangle the mess and respond with precision.

But now that he was standing here, looking at Chen Mo—someone who had narrowly escaped death not once, but multiple times in the same night—someone who now held his hand and smiled as if to say, “See, I’m still here,” Xi Siyan’s carefully buried emotions detonated.

The flame of his fury roared into being, wild and near-violent. He pressed a hand to his brow, trying to steady himself, and stared at Chen Mo without blinking—using every ounce of control to suppress the urge to throw him over his shoulder and disappear.

All morning, doctors, nurses, and police had been coming in and out of the ward.

Only around noon, as Chen Mo was halfway through a specially prepared lunch, did the room grow crowded again.

People from the Yang family were here.

Yang Qi’an and Zhou Yaoqing came as well.

“If you don’t want to see them, I’ll send them away,” Xi Siyan said.

Chen Mo took another sip of soup from the nutritionist and replied casually, “It’s fine. I don’t care whether they come or not. Let them in.”

The couple who entered looked a bit older than they had at Yang Zhi’s wedding.

Su Qianran picked out an apple from the fruit basket and gave Chen Mo a polite nod before heading to the sink, clearly trying to avoid any unnecessary contact. Yang Zhi, for his part, didn’t greet Chen Mo either. He made a beeline straight for Xi Siyan, his expression heavy and tense—he clearly knew what had happened.

“Xiao Mo,” Zhou Yaoqing stepped forward with a thermos in hand. “I made this myself. Want to give it a try?”

Chen Mo glanced at the thermos, then looked at the bowl in front of him and said indifferently, “I’ve nearly finished. Just leave it on the table. Thanks—sorry for the trouble.”

Disappointment briefly flickered across Zhou Yaoqing’s face, but Chen Mo acted like he hadn’t noticed.

Yang Qi’an, meanwhile, still couldn’t help slipping into his paternal tone, saying, “We heard about what happened. You insisted on venturing out and working with others, chasing after that new thing, and didn’t even realize you were offending people left and right. You just helped your brother save the company, didn’t you? Why not come back…”

Chen Mo cut him off coldly. “That was for Grandpa. Not for anyone else. Don’t overthink it.”

Yang Qi’an looked a bit embarrassed. Seeing that Chen Mo lowered his head and clearly didn’t want to talk further, he tried to salvage the moment, “We’re going to visit your grandfather after this. The doctor said his condition is stable.”

Chen Mo finally looked up at him.

Yang Qi’an seemed to feel like he’d salvaged a bit of face and pressed forward, “If it weren’t for Ah Yan’s help this time, I can’t imagine what would’ve happened. Has the person behind it been caught yet?”

Chen Mo gave him a strange look.

Then, he smiled suddenly.

“No,” he said. “The culprit hasn’t been caught. Why—didn’t Yang Zhi tell you that all of this is connected to your youngest son?”

The couple froze.

Stunned—shocked—then utterly disbelieving.

Chen Mo watched each expression flicker across their faces and couldn’t deny the sense of dark satisfaction rising in his chest.

He had said five years ago that he didn’t care anymore. That he’d cut all ties.

But still, he found it deliciously gratifying to see the expressions on their faces when they realized the “golden child” they’d so lovingly nurtured and pinned their hopes on had long since fallen into the abyss.

Turns out he was still petty.

Turns out his past life had left more scars than he wanted to admit.

Once he realized this, his interest in the scene quickly faded.

He put down his spoon—and immediately felt a sharp sting on the back of his hand.

The next second, someone came over quickly.

A hand grasped his wrist, frowning, while the other pressed the call bell at the bedside. Xi Siyan’s voice was low and steady. “The needle slipped. Don’t move.”

Chen Mo glanced at the back of his hand, where the IV needle had dislodged and blood had started to seep beneath the gauze.

He hadn’t even noticed that he’d tensed and clenched his fist in anger.

He let Xi Siyan hold his arm, then said in a low voice, “Have them leave.”

Xi Siyan glanced at him but said nothing. He nodded, then turned and gestured to the bodyguards.

The bodyguards moved forward without hesitation to escort the Yang family out.

The couple was still in a daze, unsure why Chen Mo had suddenly lashed out or why they were being sent away.

Yang Zhi remained rooted in place for a long moment.

Then he said, “Chen Mo, whether you believe it or not, I didn’t tell our parents about Shule to protect him.”

Chen Mo looked at him with a chilling, self-mocking stare.

“That’s why I said it for you,” he replied. “I don’t care about your reasons. All I know is, the moment he came for me, I stopped caring who’s son or brother he is. Now—get out.”

Yang Zhi didn’t argue.

He simply stood there in silence, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

Eventually, he turned and left.

Everyone who needed to leave—was gone.

When the nurse arrived, Xi Siyan was sitting beside the bed. He reached over, covered Chen Mo’s eyes with one hand, and whispered near his ear: “Okay, let’s go. Don’t look.”

The nurse laughed gently. “Mr. Chen, you’re still afraid of injections?”

Chen Mo let his eyes be covered and gave a casual nod.

But in that moment, he understood.

What Xi Siyan didn’t want him to look at—

Wasn’t the needle.

It was the people, and the things, that no longer mattered.